Secret Santa
by DizzyDrea
Summary: Callen and Nell share a quiet Christmas moment. Part 1 of Scenes from an Accidental Courtship.


Title: Secret Santa  
>Author: DizzyDrea<br>Summary: Callen and Nell share a quiet Christmas moment.  
>Rating: T<br>Spoilers: Higher Power  
>Author's Notes: This has come directly out of left field. I read a story recently that clued me in to the CallenNell pairing. As a Callen/Kensi shipper, it was a bit of a jolt, but I found myself liking these two together. And then the Christmas episode happened. To be fair, the story was far more Eric/Nell than anything else, but my muse can apparently make lemonade out of pretty much anything, so this is what you get. And, to top it off, this is the fourth draft of this story. My muse just wouldn't give up, though, so I was finally able to finish it.  
>Thanks to danakate for showing me the joys of CallenNell. Go read her story, Discovery, here or on AO3. You won't be sorry.  
>Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.<p>

~o~

From me to you, Happy Christmakwanzikah! (I hope that covers everyone!)

~o~

The Christmas lights twinkled gaily inside OSP headquarters, Hetty's objection to a lit palm tree having been quashed by the festive mood of the season. All around them the signs of the season glittered and winked, casting dancing shadows on the walls, the ceiling, the revelers.

Even the mistletoe disco ball had reappeared, though most seemed to be avoiding it at all costs.

G Callen stood at the foot of the stairs, sipping his mug of ale, watching his coworkers as they wandered the room, sharing memories of holidays past and plans for this year. He was content, as he so rarely was these days, and it was a nice feeling.

He could see Sam talking to Kensi, his daughter's present clutched tightly under his arm. Deeks was hovering near the keg, imparting his near exhaustive knowledge of all things beer to Nell, who was smiling indulgently. And then there was Hetty, circulating the room, chatting with the various support staff, mostly scaring them because they so rarely had the need to talk to her, though they'd all heard the stories.

"Hey, Callen," Eric called out as he descended the stairs.

"Everything alright up there, Eric?"

"What? Yeah, yeah, fine," Eric stammered out. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Callen chuckled. Eric Beale might be a gifted operations officer, but he was a typical geek in so many ways. And getting nervous around the 'cool kids' was definitely typical.

"I figured if there was something to be worried about, you'd have whistled by now," Callen assured him.

"Oh, yeah," Eric said, blushing slightly. "I just wanted to make sure the boards were still clear before we shut down for the night."

"Good thinking," Callen said, sipping his ale.

"Oh," Eric said, holding up a small package wrapped in red with a gold bow. "I found this. The tag says it's yours."

Callen lifted an eyebrow. "Who's it from?"

"Don't know," Eric said. He handed over the gift, giving a slight smile as he wandered away.

Callen examined the gift from all angles. The paper was plain enough and the bow tied neatly around it once before it had been secured. It was a book, that much he could tell from the heft and the shape. But beyond those few details, there was nothing to indicate who might have left it for him.

He set his beer down on the steps behind him and pulled the ribbon, releasing the bow. He tucked it into his pocket, then proceeded to run his finger under the tape—not too much, he noted absently—before pealing the paper back, dropping it on the floor at his feet as he examined his new prize.

It was an old book, he could tell immediately by the worn quality of the leather cover and the slight smell of must coming off the pages. Opening it up, he skimmed through the pages, noting the uneven and yellowing edges as they passed through his fingers. Finally, he arrived at the title page and sucked in a surprised breath.

_Hadji Murat_ by Leo Tolstoy.

He'd read the book when he was younger, seeing himself in the life of the rebel commander. It had been one of the books that his foster family had loaned him; one of the ones he used to learn Russian all those years ago.

He looked up, scanning the room, trying to figure out who among his friends and coworkers might have given it to him. He'd never told Kensi about that foster family. Deeks either, though to be fair, he hadn't always trusted Deeks as much as he did now. Sam knew a lot, but he probably would have given Callen something practical, like a chair or a bed.

His most likely suspect was Hetty Lange. She knew more than everyone at OSP; more than anyone in any government agency; more than Callen did some days. But this didn't seem like her style, somehow.

Then he caught sight of Nell, watching him scan the room. She was still standing with Deeks, though Eric had joined them now, and the two men were excitedly debating something or other. Callen would bet money it was where the best waves in LA were.

When she noticed him watching her, she lifted an eyebrow. He raised his in return, lifting the book ever so slightly in question. Her gaze slid effortlessly into that knowing grin that Hetty had perfected, and he had his answer.

"Who's that from?" Sam Hanna asked, wandering over to his partner, the pony still tucked under his arm.

"Are you ever going to put that thing down?" Callen asked, breaking eye contact with Nell to look at Sam.

"After what it took for me to get this thing?" Sam asked incredulously. He glanced down at the book in Callen's hands. "So?"

Callen's gaze shifted again, his eyes seeking out Nell's. He found her watching him again, only this time she winked, allowing the barest hint of a smile to tip her lips.

Callen's corresponding smile didn't escape the notice of his partner. Sam turned around, but if he knew who it was that had made Callen smile, he didn't show it. He turned back to Callen, taking the book and examining it carefully.

"It's old."

"Good work, there, detective," Callen said, smirking at his partner.

Sam smirked back. "I mean, you can tell by the binding. It's sewn, not glued. You can distress leather, and paper's easy to age. But nobody sews book bindings anymore."

Callen took the book back and opened it to the title page, looking for the copyright information that all newer books had. He didn't find that, but he did find the publication date: 1917.

Sam whistled. "I think that's a first edition, man. Somebody must like you."

Callen's grin stretched. "I guess so."

"You ever gonna tell me who?"

Callen tipped his head in thought. He could tell Sam, who'd probably hold on to it for a couple of days before he told Kensi. Kensi would definitely tell Deeks, and after that, the whole office would know.

"Nah."

Sam just looked at him, probably trying to decide if it was worth the effort. At length, he shrugged. "Whatever. You'll tell me eventually."

"Maybe," Callen allowed.

"You need a ride?"

"I think I'll stick around for a while," Callen said. "You go on. I'm sure you're dying to wrap that thing."

"Okay, suit yourself," Sam said. He clapped his partner on the shoulder. "Merry Christmas, G."

"Merry Christmas, Sam," Callen said, smiling.

He watched as his partner wandered through the room, saying his goodbyes before he finally stepped through the door. Callen reached behind himself and picked up his mug, looking down at the meager contents and wondering when he'd drunk most of it. He looked across at the keg, noticing that Deeks and Eric had moved on, leaving Nell standing by herself. She'd moved, standing a few feet away, her eyes dancing as she took in the festive room.

He pushed off the stairs and wandered over, smiling at Nell as he approached. "Deeks done with Beer 101?"

Nell rolled her eyes. "Does he ever stop talking?"

"Not often," he said, chuckling. He smiled softly, holding up the book. "Thanks, by the way."

"How did you know?" she asked, curious.

"Just a guess," he said, shrugging. "How did _you_ know?"

She shrugged. "Just a guess."

She smiled up at him, that impish smile that said she knew something more than she was letting on, but Callen let it go. It was a good look on her, and he felt a warm tingle in his chest.

He glanced up, confirming where in the room they'd ended up, then looking back to her, finding her eyebrow raised. She flicked her eyes up as well, then turned a smirk on him. The mistletoe glittered overhead, presenting just the right opportunity.

Callen backed up a few steps, setting the book and his mug next to the keg before returning to Nell. "Thank you," he whispered. Then he leaned down, cupping her cheeks in his hands and placing the gentlest of kisses at the corner of her mouth.

"You're welcome," she whispered when he pulled back.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

"You're not taking the day off?" she asked, surprised.

Callen just smiled. "Are you?"

Nell shrugged. "Somebody's got to mind the store."

"Yep," Callen said. "So, I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, he scooped up his book and left. He didn't have to come in for Christmas, but he had a new book to read, and an empty house to read it in. And he figured that at some point, since the case had ruined just about everyone's Christmas travel plans, the rest of the team would show up anyway. Besides, his house might be where he slept, but OSP was really home.

~Finis


End file.
